"And that's about the gist of it." Michael said to his small microphone through a mildly strained voice, carrying Jaune's heavy unconscious form on his back. While the blonde hero's latest development was quite a shocker, it did leave the both of them without a ride as Jaune's little outburst had turned their car into a heap of fiery metal and smoke, meaning they had to walk several miles home. Though Michael was doing the majority of it considering Jaune had fallen unconscious afterwards.
For nearly an hour, Michael had carried the burning teen on his back, which didn't seem like much trouble at first, but then he realized just how much damage Jaune had done to his aura. Michael's aura had been so involved in absorbing the pressurized force, and the impact against the rock that he barely had any left to boost his physical strength. His feet routinely sank into the soft dirt and mud, his excellent balance stopping him from falling. The morning sun was starting to border overhead, calling the time of Noon.
"Hmm, well that's quite a development." An abnormally deep and raspy voice said through his earpiece. "When Ozpin first described him, I was expecting a complete disaster."
"Well you weren't far off." Michael said, hitching Jaune up before he dropped to the ground.
"How do you figure?"
"Old man, the dudes a complete mess. His skills are so subpar that I wouldn't be surprised if he had just got into combat school. His swordplay's sloppy, his footwork's a joke, and he spends the majority of his time hiding behind that big ass shield." Michael growled, hitching up Jaune once again when he began sliding. "To make matters worse, he has little to no aura control whatsoever. Whatever he has is so bare bones basic. Just basic reinforcement. Nothing else." He sighed aggressively. "What the hell were they teaching him? Do you honestly expect me to teach him?"
"Of course I do." The Old Man said bluntly. "Like it or not, you're one of the best mercenary's in Vale. You've tackled jobs that would make veterans shit themselves. I think you can teach a boy. Plus, who else would do it? Like you said, he's got a long way to go, and any other teacher would deem him un-teachable."
"He's far from un-teachable. It's just that my methods may be a little… brutal." Michael said in a low voice. He shifted slightly only for Jaune's face to flop onto his neck. Michael shivered disgustedly. He swore, when this kid wakes up…
"That may be exactly what he needs." The Old Man clarified. "Someone rough. Someone who won't baby him. Someone who will do whatever it takes to make him the best."
"But what I'm thinking of doing... it might just kill the kid."
"If he dies, then we know that it wasn't worth it, and Ozpin was wasting both of our time."
Michael clicked his tongue. "Everything's all business with, you isn't? You don't even care about the potential loss of life of a kid as long as it suits your needs." There was a shuffling movement on the other end. It sounded like the rustling of papers, and the clacking of them being bounced against the table. Michael clicked his tongue again. That bastard wasn't even paying attention.
"Anything good about the kid?" The Old Man asked absentmindedly.
"Surprisingly, quite a few things. One thing in particular was hi- ugh! What the hell! That's freaking gross!" Michael shouted as the wet, warm dribble of drool trailed down his neck. The feeling of it against his skin was slimy and disgusting, almost like warm gelatin as it worked its way down to his undershirt.
"What is it?" The Old Man asked, slightly startled.
"The little slobber-monster's drooling down my damn neck! Ugh, that's just not right." The mercenary hissed venomously. He continued on, his voice breaking every so often. "What stands out about the kid is his analytical mind. He analyzed me before we even started fighting, and-" He cleared his throat, rubbing his neck and shoulder together to try and make the feeling go away, though it only made it worse. "and adjusted to me accordingly. Strangely enough, he predicted my movements, despite me being faster, stronger, and much more skilled."
"Ozpin did mention that his leadership quality was outstanding. Calm headed in the face of combat, and very creative in his solution. He naturally applies it to his fighting style. Given enough time, he'd make a fascinating opponent." The Old Man said observantly.
"Another factor is the kid's aura. It's absolutely incredible. Large in quantity and absurd in power."
"Bigger than yours?"
"By a long shot. I don't think that I've even encountered anything like it. Luckily, it was just us here. If we were in the middle of a street, he'd have blown it sky high."
"And you're sure it isn't just his semblance?" The Old Man asked in a low hum.
"It it was, we would all know it. It would have altered his body in some way. No, we haven't even come to the cusp of what he's capable of." Michael hummed a little to himself. "This might actually be fun." Though there was something that concerned Michael. The boy was special. No doubt about it. But why was he special? From what he could understand, he didn't' wield a relic, and he wasn't a part of a particularly powerful bloodline. Or was he?
"What's his last name?" Michael asked.
"Uh…" There was a mad shuffling of papers before he received an answer. "Arc. Why?"
"I want a full background check on this kid. His family friends, past contacts, social history, everything. I want to know everything about this kid right down to his shoe size. I need to know this asap, savvy?" Michael demanded.
The Old Man scoffed. "Since when did you give me orders?"
"Since two old men ordered me to start babysitting." Michael retorted.
"Snarky little…" The Old Man did his usual silent grumbling, and then conceded. "Fine. I'll get your info. You better appreciate this, boy."
"I think I'm a little too old to be called 'boy'." Michael said, shivering in disgust as the drool had breached his undershirt and traveled sickeningly down his chest.
The old man scoffed. "Twenty-two isn't what I'd call old back in my day, boy."
"We aren't exactly in your day, are we Old Man? Over and out." Michael pressed his ear against his shoulder, effectively shutting off earpiece. With a sigh of relief, he spotted the gates for the city of Vale just overhead. His plight would soon be over. Now all he had to do was wait for the idiot blonde to wake up. He gazed back at the sleeping blonde and sighed again aggressively. This was going to be a long day.
In these past few months, Jaune had been so accustomed to unconsciousness, he didn't even question what happened anymore. The very moment he opened his eyes, he was alert and ready, albeit a little groggy. Upon opening his eyes and welcoming the feeling around him, he immediately noticed the familiar softness under his back, and the sterile, white walls of his room. The weight of his armor was gone. The sunlight that glared through his open window was blinding, making him cringe as he tried to gaze upwards. He groaned faintly, rubbing his eyes, hissing lightly at the abrupt throb in his head. A throb that he had felt once before on the street after that robbery.
The majority of his body was completely numb, and buzzing slightly. It felt like he had been electrocuted. The slight burning smell of his clothes and the dull ringing in his ears supported his theory. What on Remnant happened to him? All he remembered was a shimmering blade closing in on his body, a blinding white flash and a titanic crack that echoed through the air. Everything after that was a complete blank.
Jaune tilted his head, finding Michael sitting in a seat, staring at him. "Morning, Hero." He said rather gruffly.
"What happened? How did we get back here?" Jaune asked faintly.
"Well, what happened was that you decided to show me a trick that I wasn't prepared to see. Damn near blasted my head off, that did." Michael said, nonchalantly tapping the side of his head. "And you got here by me carrying you a good ten miles with you drooling down my neck." Michael tightened his gaze, not even concealing the edge in his voice. Jaune just shrugged. Michael sighed and leaned back into his chair. "Now I assume you have a shit ton of questions."
"I… yeah." Jaune admitted.
Michael rolled his eyes. "If you must. This will be the last time I play twenty questions with you, hear me? What's first?"
Jaune gazed at the ceiling, pondering what his first question. Finally deciding it, he spoke firmly, as not to further agitate Michael's mood. "First off, what happened back when we were training?"
Michael shrugged. "Not much to tell. We fought, I kicked your skinny ass from here to Mistral. Our little duel told me quite a bit about you."
"Like what?" Jaune asked nervously, almost predicting what Michael was going to say.
"You suck. You really do. The mission details weren't kidding when it said you hadn't been properly trained yet. I actually wanna know how you made it this far in Beacon." Michael said dryly. Jaune pursed his lips, staring down at his own blanketed legs, feeling his dwindling confidence take another blow. Though he couldn't help but feel curious of the words that Michael spoke to him last night.
"You said you were going to make a good mercenary out of me in a month. Make me stronger than my peers." Jaune said.
"You got it." Michael confirmed.
"How though? Have you met my past classmates?"
Michael grinned devilishly. "Trust me, once you get used to my training methods, you'll be a damn sight tougher than you would believe. And before you ask what it is, it's essentially this." He stepped up from his chair, and began pacing around the room. "For six days a week, you will devote eight hours of your time to me. We will begin at eight every morning, eat something, then spend at least four hours on combat training. Maneuvers, methods, and basic swordsmanship. That kind of deal. Here, you will be honing your reflexes, precision, accuracy, and overall combat skill. You will learn to fight in different situations, weapons, and simulations that may happen in missions."
Jaune's eyes widened in shock. Four hours? He had to do constant, non-stop combat training for four hours? He could barely last one hour with Pyrrha back at Beacon, and he could already guarantee that Michael was no Pyrrha. He wouldn't dote on him, and mother him like she would. Michael smirked at Jaune's expression.
"Seems you don't like that last part, eh?" Michael sneered. "I don't blame you. I had a hard time adjusting to it myself when I first started, but you'll get used to it with time. Besides, you'll have a two hour rest and respite time doing something just as important."
"And that would be?" Jaune asked with a small gulp.
"Cracking these open." Michael said, snatching a plastic bag from underneath the bed, and dumping its contents at the foot of Jaune's. It was a messy assortment of large textbooks bearing equations and coat of arms symbols, giving Jaune an uncomfortable chill.
"What is this?" Jaune asked uncertainly.
Michael clicked his tongue. "Books. What else are they supposed to be? Bombs? Portals to another dimension? Dammit, kid, use your sense."
"I mean what are they doing here?" Jaune said shakily.
"Why, there here for you to learn, of course. You will spend two hours a day learning everything in those books. You have calculus here, combat and Grimm history, writing course, language, anatomy, etcetera."
Jaune gave a loud, annoyed groan. Of all the things he had expected from this job, he never would have thought school work would be a part of it. "You're not serious?"
"Oh I'm very serious."
"Of all the things, why?"
Michael clicked his tongue again, obviously annoyed. "Why do you think you learn this shit in the first place? It's so you can implement it into the real world. Mathematics helps with your precision, timing, and angling. History can show you victories, strategies and mistakes of the past. Writing and language is more for espionage purposes, and anatomy should be obvious. Knowing the human and faunus body makes it easier to kill them." Jaune openly cringed. Michael rolled his eyes. "Or incapacitate them. Just having instincts and learning from your enemy can get you so far. Tell me, what have you learned of me just from me talking?"
Jaune though hard before speaking. Aside from the obvious, what did he notice? Trying to find micro details in itself wasn't always the hard part. Reading people was the only he could make it through combat, especially with the brazen, viscous opponents like Cardin. However, from first glance it was apparent that Michael was cut from a much more seasoned cloth. Michael was smiling. Jaune could see that plain as day. However, there was an emotion behind it that Jaune couldn't trace properly. A sense of cunning and maturity that Jaune secretly yearned for. There had to be something there, but whatever it was had been lost to him.
"You know what? Get back to me on that once we're done here. Though you see my point, right?" Michael said after a few minutes. Jaune nodded, propping himself up by his elbows, welcoming the returning feeling in his body.
"Well, I had to do this sometime…" Jaune mumbled, staring grievously at the stack of books.
"That's the spirit, hero." Michael said with a smirk, slapping Jaune on the bag of his head. Jaune moaned back, rubbing the back of his sore head.
"Why do you keep calling me that?" Jaune asked curiously.
"Calling you what?"
"Hero. I thought heroes weren't in this kind of business."
Michael scoffed. "Okay, I could go ahead and spout all this bullshit about how heroes aren't welcome in this job." He put on a deep, gravely impression, waving his arms nonsensically. "But the reality is that you could be whatever the hell you want, be it hero, killer, or both." He stretched, and yawned. "I call you hero because that's one of the reasons you came to me. You see, with this job, everyone has a reason. You don't just walk into this life for the fun of it. Those who do are the ones you want to worry about."
"Why's that? And why does everyone need a reason?"
"This job isn't a nice one. You don't need me to tell you that though. Some choose it to earn money for their struggling families. Others do it to help themselves stay afloat. Others also enjoy traveling, fighting, or to earn experience. There are more complicated reasons of course. Like yours." Michael said, scratching the back of his head.
"Complicated? How? I thought it was straight forward."
"Is it really? I can tell the reasons just from looking at you." Michael put a hand to his chin, narrowing his eyes on the blonde. "You're lost, alone, confused, with nowhere left to go or run. You have everything to prove, and nothing left to lose. I called it, right?"
"Yeah but… you missed one." Jaune mumbled.
"Did I now?"
Jaune pursed his lips, eyes downcasted towards his own blanketed toes. There was one reason the young man missed. The main reason he started this trek the path of mercenaries. The reason he felt when he saw the gates close on the world he loved. When he saw the castle slowly exit his view with the tall, enigmatic old man who welcomed him there in the first place staring disappointingly at what Jaune truly was.
"I want a second chance." Jaune said, keeping his eyes down. "I want to go back to Beacon."
Michael stared, eyes narrowed, expression stony and focused. "That's quite a claim."
"It's possible, I know it is." Jaune said, determined.
"Of course it's possible. Many people before have convinced the old man to bring them back, though only for extraordinary reasons. You're gonna have to make a good one." Michael said.
"I will. Trust me, one day I will." Jaune said as firmly as he could.
Michael chuckled loudly. "Maybe yes, maybe not. Who knows? We'll see after your training. Speaking of which, we'll start that tomorrow. I've got a shift to fill. You rest up for the rest of the day?"
"Your shift? What… what time is it?"
"Past noon. You've been asleep for nearly six hours. That little explosion really takes it out of you, eh?"
"Explosion, what?"
"Later." Michael said, walking towards the door, dress shirt in hand. Before he walked out the door, he turned, gazing curiously at Jaune. "By the way, did you find out anything about me?"
Jaune furrowed his brow. He hated that arrogant confidence in his tone. As if Jaune was stupid, or a child. Neither was true. Jaune wasn't stupid, he never was. He had just made mistakes and is paying for them. Wait a moment… his tone. There was something about the way he spoke that seemed unnatural. It was a small feeling, but it was there, and nagged at his side constantly.
Michael's tone and inflections suggested that it may not be his true voice, tone, accent, anything like that. It sounded manufactured, and prepared early in advance. What also troubled him was his accent that was so faint, he could barely hear it. It made him wonder if that was his voice or not. It shone surprisingly much more when he was angry, or frustrated.
"Your accent." Jaune said simply.
"What?" Michael demanded in a surprisingly harsh tone. Michael narrowed his gaze further on the boy, teeth grit.
"Y-your accent. It shows more when you're angry." Jaune said nervously.
"I don't have a… how did you…" Michael lost any edge in his voice, his face pale and focused. It appeared that wasn't the answer that Michael was expecting. After a moment of awkward silence, he stormed out the door and slammed it behind him, leaving Jaune numb and confused.
Jaune woke up the next morning feeling surprisingly refreshed. The numbness had completely faded away, and he was able to walk steadily now. After taking a small shower, and getting dressed, he strapped Crocea Mors to his waist, and set out to see Michael waiting out the door, arms crossed, and his faced scrunched.
"Good morning." Jaune said faintly.
"You're late. You were supposed to be up four minutes ago." Jaune rolled his eyes. "Yes, were doing this right now. Any late time you have gets doubled. Luckily for you it's only eight extra minutes. Now let's go. There's a large training space in a deserted park not too far from here."
Jaune nodded, and stumbled out with Michael into the open streets, eye stinging from the sudden rush of sunlight. The first place they went to was a building just next to the bar. It was exceptionally tall, with an agonizing amount of stairs that only served to make the tired blonde wish he were back in bed. When they had finally reached the roof, they were so high that the cars at the bottom were merely speckles of light in the bright morning rays.
"So, is this where we start training?" Jaune asked with a yawn.
"Naw. This is the place where you wake the hell up." Michael gestured Jaune to follow him to the edge. When he did, he quickly recoiled. The height was horrendous! Dropping a quarter from this height with be like firing a bullet straight towards the ground. Michael turned to Jaune with a smirk.
"Okay. Jump down to the very bottom."
Jaune cleared his ears, certain he didn't hear what he think he did. "Excuse me, what?"
"Hero, did I stutter? Jump down to the bottom! You see the trash bags down there? There meant for you to jump on. Or don't. Give your aura a workout why don'cha. Besides. There's no way to get where we want to go at the time that we want without taking a bit of a leap of faith." Michael said with a shrug. After staring at his students reluctance for too long, Michael decided to take it upon himself to show the kid how it was done. "Fine, step aside little man. If you don't jump after me, I'll get back up here and push you." Without hesitation, Michael hopped off the edge, whooping and hollering loudly. Like a cat, he landed on his feet, missing the trashbin completely, and looked up at Jaune, waving his hands expectantly.
This was insane! Sure Michael could do it, but Jaune had never grasped the fundamentals of landing! What on Remnant was he supposed to do? With a click of his tongue, he shook his head. There was no other option. What else could he do?
"Okay... okay... I'm a boss... I'm a boss... I'm a boss!" He whispered to himself as he backed up and took a running start. He cleared the edge with a single leap, and suddenly, air flew in his face at a rapid rate. He was about halfway down before he reminded himself that he was supposed to land. Carefully, he guided himself over the trashcans, and with a short scream, landed chest first into them. "Holy crap... Oh Oum..." He stuttered under his breath, shivering from his latest adrenaline rush.
"Exciting eh?" Michael said, not even breaking a sweat.
"Exciting..." Jaune mimicked, his tone hushed and slightly in awe.
"Well, you're awake now, so the least we can do is get started. C'mon, were nearly at the park. Get the lead out and keep moving." Michael said, waving for the blonde to follow. Jaune took a deep breath, forcing whatever food in his stomach back down, and followed the merc.
They reached the park sooner than Jaune anticipated, and was surprised by how dead it all was. Broken, rotten trees stood limp and motionless in the dim sunlight that barely crept through barely intact, hanging branches. There was grass everywhere, yellow and speckled with dust and debris. There was no trace of life. No tweeting of the birds, or clicking of the crickets or call of the foxes. There wasn't even a smell attached to it. Just a deep void of silence.
"What is this place?" Jaune asked quietly.
"This place is where I was born." Michael said cryptically, his voice deep and raspy.
Jaune's eyes widened. "Wait, you were actually born here?"
Michael clicked his tongue. "Of course not, numb-nuts. This is the place where Michael Grey was born, replacing the boy who once lived here." Michael looked off in the distance, gazing at the trees as if they drew a certain memory to him.
"I'm not following." Jaune muttered.
Michael rolled his eyes. "C'mon now. Did you really think that Michael Grey was my real name?" Jaune was taken aback, though it did make sense to him after a moment of thinking. Surely, you couldn't pull this job off perfectly and make it out cleanly. Changing your identity was the best way to evade your enemies, and even your friends. Sometimes, it was also necessary to keep the authorities off your back.
"What's your real name then?" Jaune asked.
Michael spun on his heel, glaring at the boy. "Ask me that again, and I slit your throat where you stand." This time, Jaune bounced back fearfully. The tension and pressure this man gave off was so electric, he could almost feel it rattle his bones. "As of right now, until our four our combat session is done, you will not speak to me until I speak to you. And even then, do so in haste." Michael drew a silver, black edged katana in an agonizingly slow fashion, Jaune almost cringing at the metallic singing merrily as it awakened from its sheath.
Speechless, Jaune quickly drew his sword and deployed his shield, standing at the ready. He shivered as he adjusted his stance, getting straight into his analytical mindset.
"Get ready Arc, because here…" Michael narrowed his eyes, like a predator on prey. "Here is where you reclaim your life."
Hello everyone! Thank you for your patience! Sorry for the wait, you would not believe the work on my plate at the moment. However, I'm glad you enjoyed the chapter, if you did at all. Please REVIEW! It always helps and inspires me to write more! The chapter WILL come out earlier this time.
